In My Life
by M'rika
Summary: A series of instalments following Regulus Black from an ickle firstie to the man who died to help stop the Dark Lord.
1. Chapter 1

An: Inspired by Tangerine's insistence that Robert Sheehan looks like Regulus (or vice versa), this shall be a series of instalments about Regulus. It's about him and his brother, about him and the deatheaters but I think the fact that it's about him is good enough. Oh, and the title is taken from the Beatles' song. Enjoy.

In My Life

_Instalment One_

He couldn't say for definite when they had first met. With all the balls and dinner parties and dances, one met vast numbers of people; so it was possible they had first met years ago. But the first time he remembered actually meeting her was when she ran into him in their first year at Hogwarts. She looked so…contradictory, as though she was torn between apologising and arguing about whose fault it was. (Hers. It was all hers.)

"In a hurry?" he asked, arching an eyebrow, before bending down to pick up one of the books she had dropped. She looked familiar, but she wasn't in his house. A quick glance at her tie soon told him she was Ravenclaw, which meant he knew her from outside of school, so she had to be pureblood.

"What's it to you?" Her tone was haughty, but she smiled as he handed her the Transfiguration textbook.

He shrugged, taking in her dark hair and glinting eyes. "Regulus Black." He offered her a hand, which she shook, watching him carefully.

"Henrietta Adams." She ran a hand across her hair, checking it was still perfect, and he unconsciously mirrored her, before realising what he'd done and smiling sheepishly.  
>"Do you run into people often?"<p>

"Only important people," she replied sharply, her tone not matching the compliment she had just paid him. "Once I tripped on the bottom stair and knocked Mr Lestrange over. That was terrible."

"Which Lestrange?" he asked, as they began to walk down the corridor, falling into step as though they'd been friends forever.

"Senior," she admitted, her hand clutching her books. "Mother was not pleased."

He grinned at the thought of this gangly girl running into Lestrange the elder. "I don't suppose Lestrange was particularly impressed," he replied dryly.

She laughed, before stopping outside the door of one of the Transfiguration classrooms. "It was nice to meet you, but I have to see McGonnagall about my last piece of homework."

He nodded, shoving his hands in his robe pockets. "It was nice to meet you too."

She pulled the door open and it was closing behind her when "Goodbye Reg," floated through it.

It wasn't a particularly inventive nickname, but no-one in Slytherin used nicknames. One was known by one's last name, which did lead to confusion when there were several offspring from the same family. In fact, the only person to ever call Regulus by a nickname was his older brother, which was why it was such a shock when this girl used it.

It had been odd, speaking almost candidly with her; with a girl, but as he walked away he found that he had quite enjoyed the experience. Not so much that he would seek her out, but if he happened to bump into her, he wouldn't hurry away. It was lucky for him then, that Henrietta had felt the same, but had no such qualms about finding him again.

Between her running into him accidently on purpose, and the discovery that they were both fans of spending time in the library, it was little wonder they soon became friends.


	2. Chapter 2

_Instalment Two _

"How have I not met you yet?" At fourteen, Sirius was just on the cusp of moving from adorable to handsome, and the way he acted suggested he knew it and everybody else should too.

"Perhaps you were too busy with your fanclub," Henrietta replied tartly.

Regulus hid a smile as his brother glanced at him incredulously; disbelieving that there wasn't a girl who was falling at his feet. "But I have since detached myself in order to talk to the prettiest girl here." Sirius smiled winningly, trying again to charm the dark haired girl in the opulent silk dress.

She arched a fine eyebrow. "And you believe her to be me? Have you ever had your eyes checked?"

Sirius frowned and was opening his mouth to retort, no doubt rudely, when Regulus stepped in. "Sirius, she doesn't mean it. Henrietta, play nicely."

She pouted, turning so her dress swooshed about her. "But that's no fun."

Regulus grinned at her, before looking back at his brother. "Henrietta has some issues with people."

Sirius nodded, uninterested. He ruffled his brother's hair, "If mother asks, you haven't seen me." With a final smile at the pair of them, he disappeared into the crowd.

"You could have been more pleasant," Regulus said, reaching to smooth his hair down.

"Come here." Straightening his hair, she smiled. "I know he's your brother but have you seen his friends? Mudbloods and blood traitors."

Regulus frowned, as she finished fussing with his hair, thinking of the boys he always saw his brother with. The dark haired one was annoying, but the other two weren't that bad. The taller one even smiled at him occasionally. "Potter's pureblood."

The noise she made was dismissive, and she waved a hand to dispel any notion that Potter was worthy of her attention. "He's still a blood traitor." She smiled warmly at him. "Do you want to dance?"

"Not particularly." He pulled a face, but he took her hand and led her to the floor. "Try not to lead this time."

Her expression was scandalised, but the glint in her eyes let him know she was kidding. "You should be honoured if I led. You Black boys. Always thinking you're better than everyone else."


	3. Chapter 3

An: I think I forgot to mention; Henrietta first appeared in Under The Usual Palm Tree, but she has undergone a complete personality makeover since then. Enjoy.

_Instalment Three_

"If your mother stops me once more." The beginning of the threat hung in the air, as Henrietta turned towards the boy uttering it.

"Well, aren't you a picture," she cooed. As it was a formal occasion, especially one held at his house, he was in his best dress robes with immaculate hair.

He scowled. "Don't change the subject. Your mother-"

"Is a harpy, I know." Henrietta finished a sentence for him. "And she has me lined up to be the next Mrs Black. Of course," she paused, smoothing down her dress skirt, "that would mean marrying your brother."

"Mrs Henrietta Black," Regulus teased. "Mrs Sirius Black. Mrs Black nee Adams."

She pushed him gently on the shoulder. "Your father would never allow it. He thinks the new and noble house of Adams is far too common and home-grown for his precious first born."

"Sirius'll probably pick you just to fuck with Father."

She laughed delightedly at his lapse into coarse language. "Well, if I'm to be the mistress of this house one day, do I get a tour?"

He gestured round the lofty ballroom, bursting with people. "You mean this isn't enough for you?"

"If you give me a tour, my mother can't talk to you." The words were barely out of her mouth before he had taken her hand and dragged her out of the ballroom.

][][][][][][

"Your bedroom?" she asked, when they finally reached the rooms at the very top of the house. "That's a little presumptuous."

He flushed as he pushed the door open. "I wasn't…I mean…"

She laughed, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "I know. For one thing, I'm _almost_ engaged to your brother. It's practically incest."

He grinned. "Mother always told us to share." He laughed, as her face wrinkled in disgust. "Speaking of the prodigal brother, he's refusing to come out of his room."

"Aw, is he bored of the adoring girls already?" She wasn't really paying attention; he could tell because her heart wasn't in the insult. She had walked across his room to finger the Slytherin pennant attached to his wall. "I always forget you're Slytherin."

"How?" he asked with a smile, leaning on the door post. "I'm almost handsome and you know all the attractive people are sorted into Slytherin."

"Are you saying I'm not attractive?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "If the boot fits-"

"Ugh." She shivered. "Such a mudblood saying." She cast another glance round his room. "Thankyou for the tour but you must excuse me; I need to dance with some men to make your absent brother jealous. Mother has said it is my only hope of becoming Mrs Black."

"I take it the second son simply isn't good enough."

"Oh Reg." She crossed his room to hug him, an unusual move; hugs were not often practised by purebloods, even between family members. He didn't react, even though her perfume was clouding his senses. "You're lovely. But speaking as your future sister in law, no. Second best isn't good enough."


	4. Chapter 4

_Instalment Four_

"Where's your pet Ravenclaw?" Sirius had taken time out of his busy schedule of sulking in a corner to come and speak to his brother.

Regulus shrugged, fidgeting with his stiff collar. "Don't know."

"I thought you were joined at the hip," Sirius replied, casting a glare across the ballroom, where Lucius Malfoy was handing his wife a crystal glass. Sirius and Malfoy did not get on, never had done, and the enmity had continued even though Malfoy had left school.

"She's on Mother's list for you," Regulus replied, before smiling widely at one of the Mulciber sisters.

Sirius spluttered, almost dropping his brandy glass. "I'm sorry, what?"

"She's on the list," Regulus replied, calmly taking the alcohol from his brother. "Father finally relented."

Sirius glowered at his brother. "Tell me you're fucking with me." Elderly Mrs Nott gasped at the expletive, and Sirius shot her a withering glance, before dragging his brother out onto the patio. "Reg. Who else is on that list?"

Regulus shrugged. "Helen Mulciber, Ariana Morgenstern. Petra Nott." He took a sip of the brandy. "Henrietta of course."

"Fuck."

Regulus watched as his brother began to pace, running his hands through his hair angrily. "It's not the end of the world," Regulus told him. "Even when Mother finally decides you won't get married until you leave school."

"Yes Reg. Yes, it is the end." His features contorted in rage, Sirius whirled around to face his brother. "I'm not interested in any of them-" he gestured back at the door they'd left through – "They're all conceited and shallow and so fucking perfect."

Regulus' mouth dropped open at the extent of his brother's anger, but he quickly regained his composure. "And perfection isn't good enough for you?"

"No," Sirius cried. "They need scars and hurt and pain." He was breathing heavily, and even though Regulus knew Sirius was angry at their parents, not at him, he couldn't help but feel affronted by Sirius' attack. "Well, if you'll excuse me I need to go and dance with some of the perfect girls. I wouldn't want them to feel neglected."

The door was swinging shut behind him when Sirius said "Reg" so quietly it was easy for Regulus to pretend he hadn't heard.

][][][][][][][

"Who are you spying on?"

"Everyone." She didn't even turn around at his voice, she was so engrossed in watching the swirling glittering masses.

He leant on the balustrade next to her. "Have you seen Lucretia Yaxley? She's dancing with Augustus Rookwood and you know that's going to spell trouble."

She smiled. "Her father has already had a stern word with her. You know there was talk that he was going to send her to Durmstrang?"

He nodded, turning to face her, studying her profile. "Have you danced at all this evening?"

"Yes. Several times. Once with Rabastan Lestrange, after which mother came over to warn about him. As if everyone hasn't heard the stories." He didn't reply, too busy studying how her nose turned up slightly at the end, how a dark curl had spiralled out of a pin, the slight dusting of freckles across her nose. "Why are you staring at me?"

"I'm trying to figure out if you're perfect," he told her. "Stay still."

She ignored him, turning to face him. "Of course I'm perfect." She tilted her head and frowned slightly. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "Just something Sirius said."

"Oh gods." She rolled her eyes, returning to lean on the balustrade. "One day you'll learn not to listen to him."

Regulus smiled slightly. "Yes. And one day you'll marry Rabastan."

She nudged him. "Do not joke about marriage. You could end up with me as a sister in law, and if that happens, you want to be on my good side."

He laughed, impulsively pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You can't resist my charm."


	5. Chapter 5

An: Thankyou very much to Tangerine Fields who helped me with the swearing. Enjoy.

_Instalment Five_

Christmas didn't necessarily mean snow, but this particular December day had brought a flurry to the ground. There weren't many people in Diagon Alley, the weather lending itself to other activities, like wrapping presents or making paper chains; anything that was indoors. But Regulus was striding down the street, because if he stayed inside any longer he was going to go mad. Not just slightly, but stark raving running down through the neighbourhood naked mad. And it wasn't the best weather to be streaking.

He'd called on Henrietta, asking if she wanted to accompany him. Of course, he'd had to wait while she dressed for the weather, which meant talking to her mother. Her mother harped on endlessly about marriages and good families and how was his brother? He was thankful that Henrietta had reappeared before he had had to answer that question.

"Are you sure you're quite well?" Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and the rest of her skin had paled, making her look slightly feverish, as though he should have asked her and not the other way around.

"Yes." His answer was curt, and he speeded up slightly. Despite the weather, he had come out without a coat, but even the cold wasn't helping him to think clearly.

She accepted his answer, knowing he wouldn't talk if he didn't want to and they continued in silence until they rounded a corner. There, proud and tall, was Sirius Black, talking to Potter. "Are we going over to your brother?" she asked, as Regulus slowed to a stop.

What little colour the wind hadn't sapped from him, now drained away and he stared open mouthed at his brother. He didn't look any different, hadn't changed at all. And then Regulus shook his head. "I don't have a brother."

Henrietta's gaze snapped in his direction. "Pardon?"

He swallowed, almost nervously. "I said," – he enunciated every single syllable clearly –"I do not have a brother."

She understood instantly; Sirius would no longer be talked about, no longer referenced, no longer mentioned in any shape or form. He was, for all intents and purposes, dead. She reached for Regulus' hand, and he didn't resist her when she led him down a side street, far away from the brother who didn't exist anymore.

"Reg! Regulus!" The banished boy came running after them, skidding in the snow.

"You're not to speak to him." Henrietta drew herself up to her full height, staring him down.

"Fuck you. He's my brother," Sirius told her angrily. "Regulus! For fuck's sake!" He called after the boy who had continued down the narrow alleyway.

"No he's not," she snapped, her eyes glinting. "The minute you left you ceased to be related to him."

Sirius stared her down, hating her more every second Regulus got further away. "He will always be my brother," he spat.

She shrugged. "That's not how he sees it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I ought to catch up with him."

He grabbed her by the arm, and gripped her tightly. "You little bitch. Don't you fucking tell me how Reg feels."

She looked disdainfully at where he held her. "Why? Worried I know him better?"

James had come up behind Sirius and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sirius, leave it. She's not worth it." Sirius glowered at Henrietta, but roughly released her.

She smiled bitterly at the two boys. "Your blood traitor friend is more intelligent than he looks. You should listen to him more often."

Sirius lunged at her, but James caught his arms, pulling him back. "Sirius! Leave her. She's just a stupid stuck up kid."

Sirius glared vengefully at her back as she walked away, hurrying to catch up with Regulus who had disappeared into the snow. "Who's fucking changing my brother? Ay? Stupid bloody bitch!" He swore loudly, the curse ringing round the narrow passageway. "Prongs, what if he turns into one of them?"

James smiled sadly at his friend and shrugged. "He'll always be your brother," he said helplessly.


	6. Chapter 6

_Instalment Six_

"Lord Voldemort."

Regulus looked up. At sixteen, he'd grown into his looks, and there was more than a dash of handsome on there, and consequently he'd adopted the easy grin of his bro- of Siriu- of one of the seventh year Gryffindors. "I know."

Rumours were beginning to trickle in about a man who believed in the purity of Wizarding blood, in the supremacy of purebloods and the inferiority of muggles, mudbloods and blood traitors. As the heir to the Black dynasty, Regulus was often at dinner tables with the older men who thought that this man had the right idea. But of course, they were too old to join his crusade. But Regulus wasn't. He'd become entranced by the idea of a world where wizards didn't have to hide, and mudbloods were in their proper place. And ever since Siri- since his elder broth- since he hadn't had a brother, the responsibility for the future of the family had fallen on him. He was expected to play a role he'd never been groomed for, but he felt he was playing it well. But becoming one of these crusaders would push him out of the shadows and into the spotlight of his parents' praise. His Father still preferred…the other one, despite the company he kept, and Regulus desperately wanted to show that he was capable of everything that was suddenly being asked of him. The more he heard about Lord Voldemort, the more he wanted to sign up. But it was hard enough to find news about him, never mind meet the man himself.

"I want to join." Her tone was resolute, as though she expected him to argue, but he had no intention of persuading her out of it.

"No women have been signed up yet," he said quietly, but he met her eyes with a smile. "But that doesn't mean you can't be the first."

][][][][][][][

"Have you heard?" She looked excited, which was unusual as she tended to sport a look of indifference, no matter what happened.

"Depends on what it is you're talking about," he drawled, running a hand through his hair before starting to lean backwards on his chair. He was in the library and his Defence Against The Dark Arts homework was spread out on the table in front of him.

"Your cousin. Bellatrix." She sounded flustered and her words were tripping over one another. She took a deep breath, before continuing, but her eyes were wide, another sign of her excitement. "Bellatrix joined him."

"Joined who?" He stretched, balanced precariously on two chair legs, hair falling in his eyes.

"Regulus, don't be thick," she snapped, sitting in the chair next to him. "Lord Voldemort."

He grinned, and the other two chair legs met the floor with a thump. "So he's taking women as well."

She beamed at him. "Exactly."

He stared at her, the grin still on his face. She was so beautiful when she was passionate about something, so striking with the tinge of excitement in her cheeks, and then he didn't know how, but they were kissing, with her fingers curled in his hair, and he was pulling her closer.

"Mr Black! Miss Adams!" The voice of Madam Pince crashed into his consciousness and they pulled apart, breathing heavily wearing matching expressions of guilt. "This is a library! Detention. Both of you. And I suggest you find somewhere else to work."

When she had disappeared again, they both laughed, initially nervously, but it grew into full-blown joy-filled hysteria. She ran a hand across his hair, straightening it, erasing any evidence that she had snogged him. "We should probably forget about this," she said quietly, a mischievous smile dancing on her face.

"Agreed." He leaned back in his chair again. "But he's taking women as well."

She grinned. "I know. And I intend to be one of them."


	7. Chapter 7

_Instalment Seven_

"I'm not sure that's an appropriate question." Regulus smiled charmingly at Rose Blishwick, elevating the wattage in his smile.

She blushed, hiding her face behind her lace fan. "I didn't mean…I wouldn't…."

He laughed, his incisors revealed as he threw his head back. "I am sure you didn't. But I am afraid I can no longer ask you to dance, as I fear you may blush too much."

Rose faltered for a moment, but was drawn in by his roguish smile. "Well Mr Black, when you put it that way, perhaps your name will have to be struck from my dance card."

"I am devastated to hear it," Regulus said, placing a kiss on her hand. "But I am grateful that you will not die of embarrassment."

She bobbed, smiling widely, before turning away in search of another pureblood boy, one who would not tease her but lead her in a waltz. He watched as she walked away, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair. Being charming was so exhausting, and he wasn't even sure that he was being charming. Regulus knew he was doing what he had always seen Sirius do; gently teasing girls into saying things they didn't mean, and then citing this as a reason to avoid dancing. It wasn't that he couldn't dance - in fact the foxtrot was his speciality - but rather, that he preferred not to. At sixteen and sole male heir to the Black fortune, his mother was already drawing up lists of prospective brides, reusing the lists she had started when Sirius had come of age. Regulus was used to casts offs. To hand me downs. To everything being tainted by Sirius. He shouldn't even think about Sirius, but when so much was contaminated by him, he had come to use his name, rather than struggling to rewrite their shared history. But he felt too much was shared. That he wanted something for himself, something untouched by Sirius. It never used to bother him; he knew he was the second son, the runt, the spare. But now that the future of the family rested firmly on his shoulders, Regulus wished he could have something that had never been Sirius'.

"Who are you looking at?"

He turned to see Henrietta smiling mischievously up at him. There had been a time when she was taller than him, but since their first meeting, he had grown several inches and now he towered over her. "I'm not looking at anyone," he said, with a weary smile.

"I thought you were going to dance with Rose Blishwick," she said, bringing her fan up to hide her lips from any prying eyes. "She almost had you."

"She did not!" He had long ago mastered the art of protesting whilst keeping his voice low, which he employed now. "I was perfectly in control of the entire situation."

She snorted derisively. "Yes. And I'm engaged to Rabastan Lestrange."

"Really?" he asked, mocking her with wide eyes and a gushing tone. "Congratulations. Tell me everything. Was it love at first sight?"

From the glint in her eyes, he knew that she would have pushed him if it were not for the formal occasion. "You know what I mean," she pouted. Her gaze flickered around the hall, barely registering the fact that her mother was gesturing at her to circulate. "Will you dance with me?"

"People will talk," he warned her, even as he took her hand to lead her to the dance floor.

"Oh let them," she said, almost vehemently. "For all they know, we're about to become engaged."

He placed a hand on her waist. "I'm not sure whether to be offended or not."

She shot him a look. "For all you know, it's true. Your mother and my mother keep talking."

He looked towards his mother, as he led his companion in a waltz. "Let them talk," he told her, with a smile.

"Don't quote myself at me," she told him, grinning. "I'm the one person I can't argue with."

As they moved across the floor, Regulus wondered if Henrietta was on one of his mother's lists. He wondered whether marrying his best friend would be so bad. Whether it would be any worse than marrying one of the shallow dolt headed girls who kept throwing themselves at him, the way they had used to with his brother. He wondered if he'd managed to find the one girl who could possibly be his. His. His alone. Not Sirius'. She had never been Sirius'.


	8. Chapter 8

_Instalment Eight_

"Show me again."

He laughed as they strode down the street. Oxford Street was bustling, as it always was, being one of the most famous streets in London. They weren't there to shop in the muggle world though; about three quarters of the way down was an exclusive Wizarding shop, which was their destination. If Henrietta felt like slumming it afterwards, he would take her to Harrods, but frankly, he found the fawning sales staff tedious. "You've seen it a million times already."

"Don't exaggerate." She pouted. "I thought you were my friend."

"I am," he protested, "you're my best friend."

"Then show me again!"

He raised an eyebrow at her petulant tone. "No."

"Please." She did her best puppy dog eyes, knowing full well he couldn't say no to that face.

He finally relented and rolled his left sleeve up so she could see the mark recently burned into his skin. It still hurt, but what was a little pain in the pursuit of glory?

"So will you talk to him about me?" Henrietta asked, still gazing at the skull and snake.

"You know I-"

"Sirius!" A dark haired girl ran towards him and wrapped her arms around his legs.

He froze, not recognising the child, and not comprehending why she would call him by the wrong name. What would this child know of Sirius?  
>"Nymphadora Tonks! You <strong>never<strong> run off, even if you think you've seen Sirius." A woman with light brown hair came running up and disentangled her daughter from Regulus. "I'm so sorry," she said, taking Nymphadora firmly by the hand. "She thought you were…"

Regulus heard the words faded in her mouth as he saw the realisation dawn on her face. He knew her; or at least, he had once known her. She was his ex-cousin. Another of the Black family blasted from the family tree. She had run away with a mudblood, and as he remembered this a sneer crept across his face.

"Regulus?" Andromeda breathed, her eyes darting between her cousin and his friend. "How…how are you?"

"Mudblood lover." He spat the words, his face twisted in hatred; a buzz of satisfaction as he watched her stumble backwards.

Her gaze dropped to his still bared left arm and she gasped, pulling her daughter closer to her. "But that's…Reg, that's…"

He yanked his sleeve down, fumbling with the button at the cuff. "I know what it is," he hissed. "And I know that you're a filthy blood traitor." He looked down at the dark haired girl who was watching the exchange curiously. "And you have a mudblood daughter. How perfectly vile." He glanced back at his cousin. "And how terrible it would be if something happened to her."

The blood drained from her face and then she was turning, picking up her daughter, and fighting through the crowds to get as far away from her cousin as she could.

"Who was that?" Henrietta asked, inquisitively.

He shook his head dismissively. "Its people like that we're going to eradicate."


	9. Chapter 9

_Instalment Nine_

"Hide me." She was still smiling, and she even waved at Eleanor Rosier, but her tone was desperate.

"Why?" he asked, an amused smile dancing about his lips. He handed her a flute of champagne, whilst watching the dancing couples.

"I think William Gamp is about to propose," she told him hurriedly, turning her back to the dancers, as if that would stop William from finding her. "Mother keeps making approving remarks about him, and he looks far too serious for a summer ball."

Regulus laughed, smoothing a hand over his hair. "I thought you liked William."

"I do," she said with a pout. "But as a distraction. No-one wants to watch Punch and Judy for their entire lives."  
>He suppressed a laugh at her description of the eldest Gamp son. He winked at a blushing Blishwick girl, before replying, "William is a fine young man. You could do a lot worse."<p>

"Can we discuss his merits somewhere else?" she demanded, her hands finding her hips, which would have been more intimidating if her hands had not slipped due to the peach coloured silk. "We can talk about him all night if you like, but please. Take me away somewhere."

He raised an eyebrow. "And why would I want to talk about William Gamp all night? Especially when I can stay right here and watch Ilana Goyle. I think she needs to talk to her seamstress. I'm sure a permit is needed for a dress like that."

Flushed, Henrietta stood in front of him, grabbing his tie so he had to look at her. "If you want I will discuss Ilana's relative merits all night, but first take me elsewhere."

He laughed, and took her hand. "Is the rose arbour a suitable place?" he asked.

"Well, I'd prefer the walled garden," she replied, as he led her to the nearest door, "but I suppose we can go watch the Greengrasses have a particularly nasty argument."

][][][][][][

Of course, they didn't talk about Ilana Goyle, because to be frank, there was little to be said about such a shallow girl. Instead, they talked about the golden future that Lord Voldemort had promised, and how they imagined themselves in it.

More than once Regulus found himself distracted by her beauty and not her argument, but he did his best to cover himself with a well-placed "I agree." He had never used to think of her that way, but since his mother had been pushing him to name a bride, he found himself coming back time and again to their kiss in the library. It wasn't his only kiss, good gracious no, but it was the only one that intrigued him. He wondered what she would do if he kissed her right now, if he wound those dark curls through his fingers.

"And, I swear, I will not marry a dolt like William Gamp." Her words were tinged with vehemence and when his gaze dropped from her face, he saw that her fists were clenched. He slid onto the stone bench next to her, placing his now empty brandy glass on the floor, before gently placing his hands on top of hers.

"He would be lucky to have you," he murmured quietly. "Any man would be honoured to have you as their wife."

Henrietta glanced down at where their hands touched, and then looked up at his face. "You look so serious." She smiled. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about marriage again. Has your mother said anything more about your special lady?" He didn't reply, but tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "Regulus?" She frowned. "Are you feeling-"

And then his lips were on hers, a hand cupping her face as though he were afraid she would break. And somehow, wonderfully, she was kissing him back, pulling him closer, and he found his fingers running through her dark hair. It felt like hours later when they pulled apart, both flushed. He watched silently, as she discarded the few pins that hadn't quite fallen out of her hair, her dark curls spilling down over her shoulders.

"Marry me."

She stared at him for couple seconds before a grin spread across her face. "Perhaps I had better wait and see how William proposes. I'm sure he will give me roses."

"Fuck William Gamp," Regulus said fervently, one of his hands still curled around hers, then sighed as she arched a an amused eyebrow. "That's not what I meant. Henrietta, I love you."

"You could have mentioned this before," she said with a smile. "I'm sure I've given you several opportunities."

He laughed and placed a kiss on her hand. "Marry me. Go on, it'll be fun."

She shifted in her seat, turning more towards him. "And what does your mother think about this?"

He shrugged. "She'll get over it," he told her before he kissed her cheek.

"What about your father?" she asked quietly, her dark eyes meeting his.

He shook his head. "He doesn't care," he murmured, his face millimetres from hers. "He lets me do whatever I want."

"Well," she breathed, a finger gently tracing his jawline. "You make an excellent argument, but I think I'd like to hear your opening point again."

He grinned before kissing her again.


	10. Chapter 10

_Instalment Ten_

Eyes, begging him, pleading with him. The never-ending screams, the howls of pain, the whimpers. The endless chorus of please and no. The darkness looming. A thousand hands pulling him down, dragging him down. The hiss of his name. The darkness. Manic laughter, lifeless eyes. The broken murmurs, the mechanical cries.

He awoke with a cry, his eyes wide in terror, fighting against the arms that were holding him steady.

"Regulus! Regulus." She held him fast, only flinching when he struck the newly branded mark on her left arm, until he stopped struggling and went limp, shaking. She ran a hand through his hair and waited for him to stop.

"It was… there was…" He tried to get the words out, but apparently whatever he had dreamt of, had scared him too much.

"Shh." She slowly released him, but held his hand, her reassuring presence comforting him. "It doesn't matter, it's not real."

He looked down at where her fingers were entangled with his, the gleam of her wedding ring assuring him he was awake. "It felt real."

She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "It's not," she promised, gently pushing his fringe away from his eyes. "It was just a dream." He nodded his agreement, but hesitated. "What?" she asked quietly.

"We killed those people," he murmured, still looking down at their joined hands. "What if-"

She smiled slightly, her thumb stroking his hand. "They would have stopped us. It couldn't be helped. They're… collateral damage."

"The girl was eight." The words burst from him before he could prevent it.

"She was a squib," Henrietta said quietly. "What kind of life would she have had?"

He nodded, allowing her words to calm his heartbeat. "I love you," he murmured, finally meeting her eyes.

"I love you too," she replied, gently kissing him. "But I would love you more if you could try not to have nightmares."


	11. Chapter 11

_Instalment 11_

When he was summoned, all he felt was numbness. Where there should have been anger or denial there was simply emptiness. Throughout his meeting with the Dark Lord, he nodded and gestured his agreement, but the entire time he knew he ought to be feeling something. Rage, pain, something. Something that would prove he had a heart. Anything but this all-consuming hollowness.

"Your wife was a loyal follower." His master's voice broke through the indifferent shell, and Regulus finally felt something. Henrietta had been more than just his wife; she had been his best friend. And she had worshipped the man in front of him and he didn't even know her name. For the first time since the fight, Regulus felt something. A shard of anger flashed within him.

"She was, my Lord."

"I understand the auror was your brother."

Another flash of anger. It was true, but it wasn't Sirius' fault. When Regulus' mask had fallen, Sirius had hesitated, faltered, his spell ricocheting off, to where Henrietta had been standing. Regulus had heard his brother swear, saw him stumble backwards, dropping his wand. By rights, Regulus should have hurt Sirius. But his brother had spared him, and Regulus felt he at least owed him the same.

"I need your elf."

And that was it. Less than twenty words said about Henrietta, the woman who had died for their cause, the woman who had been carrying his child, the woman who had held him when he was scared. Regulus felt the anger swelling up within, realising in that instant that this man didn't care about them. They were his tools to create a future built on bloodshed. Nothing more. They weren't friends or colleagues or partners. They were weapons, slaves. As he left the chamber, he let himself think about the people who would have to die for their vision. Not just the mudbloods, not just the muggles, not just the squibs. But the believers as well. The crusaders.

Once he was back at his childhood home, he ran to what had been his father's study. He traced the family tree, looking at the burn marks. He allowed himself to think of Andromeda, the cousin who had left when he was too young to understand why, the cousin who had escaped, the cousin whose child would be killed if Voldemort succeeded. He allowed himself to think of Sirius, the brother who had tried to fight for him, the brother who couldn't kill him even though he was the enemy, the brother who had picked the right side. Finally, he traced the tree to his own name and Henrietta's next to his and then to the empty space where their child's name would have gone. What if he had been a squib? Regulus couldn't have killed his son. And then, unbidden, the faces of all the children he had slaughtered flooded his mind. All those children who wouldn't have fitted into his perfect world. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as he realised exactly what he had done. By the time he had regained control of himself he knew what he had to do. And it meant sending Kreacher with his fallen master.


End file.
